Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki

Having just read and enjoyed Haruki Murakami's latest novel, Killing Commendatore, I decided to reread Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his years of Pilgrimage (published in English in 2014). While superficial similarities between events and characters in the two books are numerous, I feel as if it's a totally different type of book.

Reading it just after Killing Commendatore makes me realize that the magical realism in most of Murakami's books is what makes me so enthusiastic about them. Magical realism is absolutely not a part of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki. Rather, it's a totally realistic novel about a man who lacks something... who seems to be waiting for life to happen to him... to seem unable to seize the moment when something might happen to him. (Reminds me a little of Henry James, but that's not important now.)

I've noted how wonderful many details are in Murakami's books, especially food details (though I'm just more aware of food details). Tsukuru's diet is mostly plain:

"When he felt hungry he stopped by the local supermarket and bought an apple or some vegetables. Sometimes he ate plain bread, washing it down with milk straight from the carton. When it was time to sleep, he’d gulp down a glass of whiskey as if it were a dose of medicine." (p. 3). 

It's often someone else, like his girlfriend Sarah, who eats the good-sounding food while he watches.

"The waiter brought over the lemon soufflé and espresso. Sara dug right in. Lemon soufflé seemed to have been the right choice after all. Tsukuru looked back and forth between Sara, as she ate, and the steam that rose from her espresso." (pp. 233-234). 

At the very end of the book, he finally prepares a whole meal, which I think is a faint signal that he's becoming more than colorless:

"He grilled salmon with herbs in the oven, drizzled lemon over it, and ate it with potato salad. Tofu and scallion miso soup rounded out the meal. He had half a cold beer and watched the news on TV. Then he lay down on the sofa and read." (p. 345)

Every character in the novel seems to have some color word in their names, beginning with Tsukuru's four best friends in high school. At one point, there's a conversation in which a character is noted as especially vivid (this is in a story told by a friend of Tsukuru, not about anyone he actually knows) -- has a "certain glow." And the meaning of this vividness is that the character is suited to choose an early and certain death -- though he doesn't choose it. That's complicated, but I think it points to how colorless Tsukuru is. (p. 92-94)

In this section, there's another clue in a conversation between these people in the story his friend tells:

“Every person has their own color. Did you know that?” he [the character in the story] said. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Each individual has their own unique color, which shines faintly around the contours of their body. Like a halo. Or a backlight. I’m able to see those colors clearly.” (p. 93). 

I keep looking for clues about what the real subject of this book might be. The title of the book comes from Franz Liszt’s Years of Pilgrimage Suite -- Tsukuru is somewhat obsessed with one vignette from the suite, called "Le mal du pays," which could be translated homesickness, or maybe nostalgia or longing, and it's this feeling that most characterizes him. It's a kind of colorless feeling, which doesn't inspire him to much in the way of action, or lend him any vividness. It's not a bad novel, but maybe Murakami just succeeded too well in making a colorless character.